Prisoners of Honor
by 80sarcades
Summary: AU.  The team is captured by Hochstetter and the entire operation is blown.  NOT a torture fic, but does have a twist at the end.  Please read & review. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Prisoners of Honor**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

Author's note: AU fiction. What would have happened if Hogan and his men were captured and the operation blown?

From a military aspect, we all know that the Colonel had some kind of escape plan in place if things went wrong (thankfully, for a TV series, it never did:-). But what if everything went wrong in one night with no hope of escape? This isn't a 'Hogan and his men are captured and have to provide diamonds plot', this is the worst case scenario…with a twist at the end. NO torture scenes depicted, other than implied.

Personally, I enjoy the humorous angle of HH but had to write this one; if this story isn't your cup of tea I invite you to read another story I just posted titled _Where is Colonel Hogan?_ Otherwise, enjoy this story; don't forget to read and review!

* * *

_Chapter 1: A Bad Feeling_

_Something was wrong._

Hogan couldn't shake the bad feeling away even as he briefed his men on the upcoming mission. If it were his choice, he wouldn't do it; however, orders were orders. That still applied even if you were running an underground operation underneath a POW camp in the middle of Germany.

An agent in the OKW had alerted his handlers in London that a research facility near Stalag 13 would be receiving a major shipment of heavy water. Hogan himself had no idea what the stuff was - something to do with nuclear experiments, whatever those were - but for whatever reason London was adamant that the shipment be destroyed. The sooner, the better.

The message had also said that the trucks carrying the water would arrive at the facility sometime around 2100 that night. Due to the nature of the shipment, it would also be heavily guarded during transport so intercepting it on the road was out. That left the facility itself, which was only slightly less dangerous to infiltrate due to guard posts and controls.

Given the time frame and distance - the target was five miles away - Hogan knew that he and his men could complete the operation and still have time to return to camp barring any complications They also, thanks to reconnaissance by the local underground, had a general plan of the facility and knew where the water would likely be stored. Best of all, they would be able to cause havoc at the research facility itself. Until recently the nearly deserted buildings had been lightly guarded by second-line troops and not worth the effort to destroy due to the other plentiful targets in the area. It was still unclear what actually went on behind those walls, but the threat it now represented to the Allied cause would soon be extinguished.

Timing, of course, was key to the plan. Once at the facility, the Germans would believe that the special shipment was safe and under guard so their alert times would be off. Information about the patrols and defenses were double checked, then checked again. Two escape routes back to the camp were planned and studied. The only wild card in the deck was Major Hochstetter, their neighborhood Gestapo nemesis; any hint of sabotage would send him straight to Stalag 13 to check on his 'favorite' prisoner. If they timed it right, he and his men would be back in camp posing as dutiful Luftwaffe prisoners. _After all, _the Colonel thought wryly, _whoever heard of POW's committing sabotage? If only they knew…_

Despite the contingency planning, Hogan still had a sour taste in his mouth about the whole operation. Although he was prepared to go on the mission himself, his men quickly voted him down.

"Wouldn't hear of it, Colonel," Newkirk said, shaking his head. "You're going to need all of us for this one."

LeBeau nodded in agreement. "_Oui, Colonel_," the little Frenchman replied. "I would not let you put yourself at risk. That is what we are all here for."

"If it shortens the war, then I'm all for it, Colonel," Kinch piped in. "It's been a while since I've gone out of camp anyway." A crooked grin crossed his dark face. "Besides, I've got the perfect camouflage; how can you deny that?"

The rest of the men laughed. Although he was the second-in-command, Sergeant Kinchloe's black skin limited the missions he could go out on. Tonight, however, would be different. The last member of the group held up an explosive charge and sorrowfully looked at it.

"It's a shame that we won't get to see my bombs go off," Sergeant Carter said sadly before smiling at the Colonel. "I really outdid myself this time, boy. When these babies go off, it'll be Wow, Zing, Zoom-"

"Carter," Newkirk said, interrupting, "you're the only one I know who gets excited about blowing things up. Regular Guy Fawkes, you are."

Carter, of course, took the insult as a compliment. "Why gee, thanks, Newkirk," he gushed. "You know, if he had one of these babies back then-"

"CARTER!" the other men yelled, almost in unison. The Sergeant stopped and blushed in embarrassment.

"Well, gee guys," he said, a sheepish look on his face, "Can't a guy have fun for a change?"

In response, Newkirk playfully punched Carter in the arm and grinned. After a moment, so did LeBeau.

"Guys…" Hogan said warningly. The other men quieted down and looked at the Senior POW. "Okay," he conceded, nodding his acceptance. "We'll do this together. Let's go over it once more…"

With their planning done, the waiting game began. As the afternoon light slowly faded into darkness, each man dealt with nervousness in different ways. LeBeau made an apple strudel for Schultz while Newkirk played solitaire with an old deck of playing cards. Kinch, of course, stayed down in the tunnels beneath Barracks Two to tinker with his radio. Carter, oddly enough, doodled chemical formulas on an old scratch paper. Meanwhile, Colonel Hogan tried to read a worn Red Cross book even as his mind raced over the night's details again and again. It would be a busy week. In addition to this, there were several other sabotage missions planned; a high-level contact was also supposed to meet with him in two days. _Then again, things could be worse_, he wryly thought. _We could have another visit from Burkhalter's sister. Or, I could listen to Klink's love life, or lack thereof. That's reason enough to escape for good._

Eventually, the natural light was replaced by artificial ones from the guard towers. As they did every night, the guards lined the men up for roll call; satisfied with their count, they then confined the men to their barracks. In the tunnels, the men geared up in black outfits before checking their weapons and equipment one final time. Hogan and Carter then donned Luftwaffe uniforms over their outfits before the group made their way to the emergency entrance. One by one, each man quietly slipped out of the tree trunk and made their way into the woods and to the rally point.

Fortunately, a truck had been 'volunteered' from the Stalag's motor pool for the night's exercise. It wasn't long before they were positioned on a small rise overlooking the facility as they waited for the convoy to arrive. Nothing, as far as they could tell in the dim moonlight, had changed. Luckily, no dogs were in evidence; it would have made the operation much more difficult had they been there. Hogan wondered idly if there was a shortage of German Shepherds. Either that, or they were all at the Russian front.. _Poor bastards_, he thought.

German punctuality was with them as the convoy arrived on precisely on time. Outdoor lights flared into life as the steel drums were unloaded from the trucks by workers in grey coveralls before being taken into one of the buildings. The men carrying the barrels struggled against their heavy weight until the last one was in place and the building locked. Darkness returned to the facility as the trucks rumbled back to life and slowly filed out of the facility grounds. Oddly, two trucks stayed behind; the vehicles were parked a short distance from the front of the target building. Their drivers then jumped on one of the departing trucks and left with the rest of the convoy. _Are those trucks assigned to the facility?_ Hogan wondered. Not that it mattered in the long run.

The plan, as everyone knew, was simple. Sneak into the building holding the drums, set the charges, and then place more explosives at various points on the way out. By the time they went off, they should be either in camp or close to it. The truck that brought them to the facility would be parked on a nearby side road in open view with certain engine parts switched for nonworking ones. It would hopefully convince the Germans that the truck had broken down close to camp and was waiting for a tow to be repaired. That, of course, was the worse case scenario; Hogan planned to have the truck back at the camp by morning if all went well.

Using hand signals in the dim light, the Colonel motioned for his men to move towards the research facility. Each of them evaded the roving patrols and were soon gathered at the south fence. Quiet work with wire cutters enabled them to move past that barrier before they sneaked to their target. Newkirk worked his silent magic with the lock on the front door before they made their way inside the building. Using their flashlights, they quickly noted the steel drums stacked in neat rows against the wall of one of the large rooms. The other windowless rooms appeared to be empty.

As they set the explosive charges, Hogan quickly noticed that something was wrong.

He bumped one of the barrels by accident. As he expected, the metal container was heavy; however, that wasn't what concerned him. The lack of sloshing water did. Curious, he undid the metal cap on top and used his flashlight to peer down into the hole to see…

…sand. Regular, ordinary, sand.

"Check your tanks," Hogan called in a quiet whisper to his men. Even before they said anything, Hogan knew the truth.

_Someone had duped them._

_Next: Chapter 2: Caught_


	2. Caught

_**Prisoners of Honor**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

AU fiction. Hogan and his team is captured; the operation is blown.

From the last chapter:

…_sand. Regular, ordinary, sand._

"_Check your tanks," Hogan called in a quiet whisper to his men. Even before they said anything, Hogan knew the truth._

_Someone had duped them._

_

* * *

__Chapter 2: Caught_

"Grab the charges. We're leaving," Hogan ordered in a calm voice. Seconds later, the pack was full of explosives again as they made their way towards the exit. Even as they silently filed out the front door, a red flare popped up into the black sky. Seconds later, the rumble of a generator tore through the air before being joined by another.

The lights that came next blinded Hogan. _Searchlights!_

Even without his sight, Hogan could still pull his .45 out by touch. Dimly, he could almost feel, rather than see, puffs of dust kick up off the ground even as the sound of the light machine gun that created it roared in his ears. A loud German voice then screamed repeatedly at him to surrender. More shots - these ones hitting the walls of the building above and behind him - discouraged any retreat back into the building. By now, the hard voice was beginning to sink in as he recognized it as Hochstetter's. He uttered a silent curse.

_Bastard!_

More gunfire from automatic weapons disoriented Hogan even as he raised his gun arm towards the brightest source of light. Just then, a hard tug on his collar yanked him backward and into delicious darkness. The after image of the bright lights still burned into his retinas before a familiar face slowly swam into focus.

"We're in a bad fix, Colonel," Newkirk dryly announced.

"Tell me about it," Hogan groused, then quickly looked at his men. Fortunately, none of them were hurt. The sound of slugs impacting with wood above their heads made all of them duck towards the ground. It was quickly followed by additional shouted demands that echoed through the closed doorway. For the moment, he chose to ignore them; he looked over at Sergeant Kinchloe. "Any other way out?" he asked.

"There's a door at the back," Kinch offered, "but the Krauts have it covered. At least two companies, possibly more, with spotlights. No other exits. "

"Damn," Hogan exclaimed. A part of him ran through the tactical options, none of them good. _Sidearms against automatic weapons? No chance. Can't use the explosives as grenades. We can't even shoot at the lights themselves; they'd zero in on us before we could shoot them out._ Just then, Hogan knew what he had to do. He looked at his second in command.

"Kinch," he ordered, hoping that his voice sounded calmer than he felt. "Take the others and wait by the back door. Carter, you still have that satchel?"

Carter silently handed the bag over to Hogan even as more gunfire erupted from outside. Sooner or later, the Germans would get tired of waiting and assault the building; he had to act now. He reached inside the sack with his right hand…

"We can't let you do it, Colonel," LeBeau said, putting his own hand on the Senior POW's arm; a chorus of other voices joined his. All of them, even Carter, knew what Hogan was planning.

"It's your only chance, guys," Hogan said, shaking his head. "Get to the back door and get the hell out of here. You know what to do after that."

None of the other men moved.

"That's an order," he added.

Still, the men failed to comply. The Colonel was about to say something further when Kinch spoke up in his deep voice. "Even if you set those charges off, the guys at the back door will cut us down before we get to the fence," he said in a reasonable tone. "Good plan, Colonel, but we can't let you do it."

"You can court-martial me too, Colonel," Carter said, his voice serious. "I'm not leaving."

"Nor am I, _mon Colonel_," LeBeau's normally happy French voice had turned husky with emotion; his face was a mixture of rage and sorrow.

Unlike his friend, Newkirk's expression was solemn; only his grim eyes betrayed the truth. "The game's up, Colonel," he said flatly. "It's been a good run." He then slowly rose and stood at attention before he saluted his commander; the other men followed his lead even as each man's eyes watered with emotion.

Hogan felt the tears in his eyes threatening to give way even as he stood up to return the gesture. There was only one final act to perform; he reached into the satchel and pulled out one of the explosive charges.

"If we're going out, let's go with a bang," he said, a dry smile appearing on his lips. Similar grins appeared on his men's faces as Hogan passed out the charges to waiting hands.

* * *

A white flag - actually, a handkerchief tied to a metal rod - was pushed outside the front door and waved to the Germans outside. As silence descended , Colonel Hogan carefully opened the door a bit wider and called "We're coming out." The words, though simple, were bitter as poison to his lips.

A moment later, Hochstetter responded, his rough voice amplified through an electric speaker. "THROW YOUR WEAPONS OUT THE DOOR FIRST, THEN COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS!" he ordered.

Colonel Hogan decocked his pistol and tossed it out the door and onto the ground. Within a minute, the other weapons from his men joined the first. Slowly, Hogan then opened the door and led his men out into the lights. As soon as all five men were visible, Hochstetter ordered them to their knees. One of the searchlights was switched off as shadows walked towards them; even then, the light was still blinding. The sound of motors echoed to them, glowing closer by the minute. Clearly, elements of the convoy were returning with reinforcements.

SS troops roughly searched the men for any further weapons before pushing them forward to the ground and handcuffing them. The second light was turned off, to be replaced by smaller spotlights. Blinking his eyes to clear the aftereffects, Hogan heard rather than saw a pair of polished boots appear by his head. Without a doubt, he knew that it was Hochstetter coming to gloat.

"It looks like your luck has run out, hasn't it _Colonel_?" the Gestapo Major taunted. "I have waited a long time for this day."

Hogan wisely chose not to say anything; he had no desire to cause his men any further pain. The German seemed disappointed, though his voice was jubilant.

"No witty comeback, Hogan, hah?" Hochstetter said, snorting in amusement. "I'm sure you will have one where you are going. You will soon learn what happens to the enemies of the Third Reich."

Despite himself, Hogan shivered as the German turned to his troops. "Get them to the truck," he ordered.

More unkind hands grabbed each of the prone Allied men and jerked them up and forward before dumping them in the bed of a waiting truck. Other guards jumped in and pulled the back gate shut before the heavy vehicle roared to life and out of the facility. With his job done, Hochstetter turned to his next mission. He detailed Captain Dorfman to stay at the facility and search for further sabotage evidence. After doing that, he then detached fifteen of the SS troops and ordered them to load up into one of the trucks. As soon as they were done, the Major climbed into his staff car and roared off into the night with the truck close behind.

Five minutes after their departure the remainder of the troops, along with the German EOD team that had accompanied them, watched helplessly from the sidelines as the building was completely demolished by Carter's explosives.

* * *

In advance, Major Hochstetter had arranged for the prisoners to be taken to Düsseldorf and to the Gestapo prison there. After so many failed encounters with Hogan he didn't want to take the chance that the Underground would rescue the Prisoners of War.

With that task in progress, the head of the Hammelburg Gestapo took a contingent of troops with him to Stalag 13.

_Next: Chapter 3: Hochstetter's Glory_


	3. Hochstetter's Glory

_**Prisoners of Honor**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

AU. Continues the story of Hogan and his men being captured by Hochstetter. The Führer gets involved.

Disclaimer: Me? Own Hogan's Heroes? Are you kidding?

_From the last chapter:_

_In advance, Major Hochstetter had arranged for the prisoners to be taken to Düsseldorf and to the Gestapo prison there. After so many failed encounters with Hogan he didn't want to take the chance that the Underground would rescue the Prisoners of War._

_With that job done, the head of the Hammelburg Gestapo took a contingent of troops with him to Stalag 13. _

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 3: Hochstetter's Glory_

It was a short trip to the Prisoner of War camp, but Major Hochstetter didn't care one bit. Instead, he was ecstatic.

_Finally!_ he crowed mentally, savoring the moment. _Finally, I've caught the bastard! The Luftwaffe cannot stop me now! Soon, I will finally find out what kind of operation Hogan is - was - running and make Klink and Burkhalter look like the fools they are! Enjoy Düsseldorf, Hogan; your precious underground won't be able to get you out of the Gestapo Headquarters there! No escapes, Hogan, no escapes!_

His staff car roared though the gates and almost narrowly hit one of the large wood framed wire doors before it came to a stop in front of the Kommandant's office. Even as the truck carrying his men squealed to a stop behind his vehicle, Hochstetter was already out of the car and running to Barracks Two.

Within a minute, they had the building empty of prisoners. As the Luftwaffe guards looked nervously on, several SS men with machine pistols herded the shivering men to a spot outside their barracks. They were then forced to their knees and made to put their hands on top of their heads while the new arrivals stood guard over them. Meanwhile, inside the building, the Major looked around for a moment and sneered at the dingy interior before he started barking orders at the Germans standing near him.

"I want you to tear this building apart, piece by piece, nail by nail if you have to," he raged as he waved at the walls. "Take the whole damn building apart…"

"Major Hochstetter," Klink's reedy - and nervous - voice piped up from the doorway, interrupting his tirade. His brown robe looked out of place among the military uniforms; obviously he had been sleeping. Schultz was right behind him. While the man was in uniform - _fat slob that he is, _Hochstetter thought disgustedly - at least he looked as scared as his commanding officer.

"What's going on, Herr _Komm-an-dant_," the Gestapo Major said, enunciating the last word, "is that your beloved prisoners have been caught in the act of sabotage!"

"What?" Klink said, outraged. "But they're prisoners…" He looked around the empty barracks. "Where is Colonel Hogan, Major?" the Luftwaffe Colonel asked, somewhat confused; he hadn't seen him outside with the other prisoners.

"Right now, he and his men are going to be permanent guests of the Gestapo," Hochstetter snarled. "And so will you, if you stand in my way!" He turned back to his men, who had been watching the whole exchange with fearful interest.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he shouted, then watched the troops start to tear apart the building. He looked back at the camp commander; the man's face had gone deathly pale.

"Trust me, Klink, you are in so much trouble," the Major sneered. "When I find what I've been looking for…"

He kicked at a nearby bunk; the flimsy wood shook under the blow.

"…you will be lucky if you get sent to the Russian front as a private!"

Hochstetter's fist slammed on the wall next to the bunk even as his voice shrilly increased in volume. "We are going to tear apart this whole camp, Klink. Including your office…"

His gloved hand pounded on the wall yet again. Hochstetter got up into the Kommandant's face; he noted with pleasure that even the man's monocle seemed to be sweating.

"…your quarters, and even your liquor cabinet! We will find what we are looking for!"

As he spoke, his fist came down again, and again, on the wood panel of a nearby bunk. Specifically, the top part.

The hidden mechanism responded by raising the lower rack while lowering a ladder to a hidden tunnel. For a long moment, no one moved as they stared in disbelief at the offending bunk. Eventually, Hochstetter peered down into the dark hole; when he looked back up, his face had a triumphant grin.

Klink, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to throw up.

And did.

* * *

For once, the leaders of the Third Reich forgot about the war. At least for a moment.

_Prisoners of war were running a major sabotage and escape operation._

The day before, the idea had been laughable. To find proof of it, much less the perpetrators, was beyond words. Although the details were limited to the upper echelons of the Nazi Party and Wehrmacht senior commanders, its very existence was enough to throw those groups into total chaos. The fear that resulted soon filtered down to the lesser members of those services.

Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering, head of the Luftwaffe, was immediately summoned to Wolfsschanze (Wolf's Lair) in East Prussia for a meeting with the Führer. Although he emerged from the dressing down somewhat intact, others did not.

Due to a severe shortage of field grade officers on the Eastern front, General Albert Burkhalter, formerly the head of Luftwaffe Prisoner Administration, was demoted to the permanent rank of Major and reassigned to a Luftwaffe Air Unit at the Russian front. Before his demotion, he was given the chance to regain his honor - in effect, shoot himself - but he declined. Towards the end of the war, he was captured by the Russian Army and sent to a labor camp in Siberia where he eventually perished.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink was court-martialed; ironically, his reputation as an idiot actually saved him. Instead of being sent to a military prison or shot outright, he was instead demoted to the rank of Lieutenant and reassigned to a unit in southern Russia. Ironically, he was to become a POW under the Russians and would survive to return to Germany in 1952.

Sergeant Hans Schultz, meanwhile, was more fortunate: General Kammler, Schultz's onetime lieutenant during the Great War, managed to intervene on the enlisted man's behalf. Transferred to the Wehrmacht, Schultz remained in Germany as a guard until the end of the war.

Two days after the discovery of Hogan's operation, Major Hochstetter was promoted two full grades to Colonel as well as receiving the Blood Order medal; his career rejuvenated, it wouldn't be long before he would wear the badges of a General Officer.

All of these men, of course, shared an important trait: they were all alive, although two of them would soon wish otherwise. For Hogan and his men, however, the future was more grim.

Even as security was tightened at Prisoner-of-War camps, the Propaganda Ministry made much of the silver lining and reported the capture of the notorious underground leader Papa Bear. While the details of his operation - much less the fact that he was a POW - were not reported to the public, the Ministry still had a field day with the information. At the very least, it kept the deteriorating war situation pushed to the back pages of the newspapers.

It was in this atmosphere that the Führer summoned Generalmajor Helmut Schmidt, then currently on recuperative leave in southern Germany, to East Prussia. The _Heer_ General had recently returned from the Russian front and was on leave pending his next assignment. Like any good German solider, he answered the call and soon found himself presented to his nation's highest leader.

Up to that point, General Schmidt had seen the Fuhrer only at various rallies before the war and at conferences after; he had never been alone with Adolf Hitler. An aide ushered him into a windowless concrete conference room where Hitler and other senior officers were clustered around a polished oak table. Overhead lights harshly illuminated a map that he knew far too well even as he stopped in front of the table, raised his right arm in salute, and barked "Heil Hitler!"

The leader of the Nazi party barely spared the General a glance as he issued more orders in a brusque tone to the officers at the table. Schmidt lowered his salute but remained at attention with his cover beneath his left arm. Finally, Hitler turned from the desktop map of Russia to look at the new arrival. The dueling scar that marred his right cheek did nothing to distract from the General's handsome features; if anything, it gave him a distinguished appearance. More importantly, unlike other senior officers, General Schmidt displayed few decorations on his uniform. The most notable of these was the Iron Cross, an award that Hitler also shared. His blue eyes met those of the General as his attitude lightened.

"I appreciate your coming on such short notice, General. Can I have something brought to you? Some refreshment, perhaps?" the Führer asked.

"No, sir. Thank you." Schmidt replied in a clipped tone; he didn't alter his stance.

Hitler turned towards the other men in the room. "Leave us," he commanded. The other officers - some with barely concealed looks of relief - filed out of the room, leaving Hitler and his General alone.

"At ease, General," Hitler ordered, then turned to business. "Have you heard about this resistance leader that the Gestapo has captured? This man they call 'Papa Bear'?"

"Somewhat, my Führer," said Schmidt, a little curious as to why he had been summoned. "The newspapers reported that he was a major underground leader, a dangerous one."

"So he was," Hitler said. "The Gestapo agent that captured him - his name is Hochstetter; I recently promoted him to Colonel - did so after long effort. What the newspapers did not report, however, is that this man operated from inside a Prisoner-of-War camp.

Surprise showed on Schmidt's face. "How is that possible, my Führer?" he asked, shocked.

"Incompetence from the Luftwaffe," Hitler stated. "Which is why I have called you here."

Schmidt said nothing, although the question was evident on his face. Hitler went on.

"While I am in agreement with Reichsführer Himmler that we should shoot this man - an American Colonel named Hogan - as a criminal, the Foreign Ministry has persuaded me that this action may have consequences for our personnel in Allied hands. In other words, the Americans or English may use this as an excuse to eliminate one of our officers, or more, in reprisal. This, of course, is not allowed."

"I see, my Führer," Schmidt said.

"Your job," the Führer continued, "is to act as my personal representative in this matter. You will ensure that this Colonel Hogan, along with his men, receives a fair trial. Obviously, the outcome is predetermined - Hogan, of course, will be shot - but the trial will show the world that German fairness - German honor - remains intact, in spite of this war," He paused, then gave the officer a hard look. "You are to use any and all means to show that honor, as well as directing the outcome. Do you have any questions?"

"Two, sir," Schmidt said immediately. "First: will Hogan's men receive the same sentence, or prison terms? Secondly, should I keep you updated on the trial progress?"

Hitler thought for a moment. "Prison," he said flatly. "Although it should be otherwise, I cannot fault an enlisted man for following the orders of his superior. However, I do not want them to return to Luftwaffe control; those men are too dangerous." He paused, his icy blue eyes boring into those of the General, before he spoke again.

"As to your second question: no. However, notify me once all the arrangements are complete."

"Yes, sir," the General said.

"My adjutant will have the necessary paperwork and files you will need." Hitler waved a hand at the map. "I have no time to waste on this; the war, of course, continues. I place my confidence in your hands, General. After this matter is concluded, we will discuss your next assignment," Hitler said, letting the reward - or punishment - dangle in the air for a moment before he spoke again. "Any other questions?" he asked.

Schmidt knew he shouldn't ask, but did anyway. "My Führer, I am a bit curious. May I ask why I was selected for this assignment?"

Hitler nodded. "A fine question, General. You were selected for two reasons: because I needed a reliable General to handle this affair - let me rephrase that, a reliable National Socialist General," the Führer corrected. "According to your superiors, your performance on the Eastern Front has been outstanding. Successful, even. As for the second…do you remember a man by the name of Ernst Gruner, from your time in the First War?"

Schmidt struggled to recall the details from more than twenty-five years ago; a face suddenly popped into memory. "A corporal," he remembered. "I seem to remember that he was a dispatch courier of sorts."

"He remembers you as a fine officer," Hitler clarified. "He also said that your discipline and honesty - as well as your concern for your men - was beyond reproach. When this is concluded, we will have to talk further."

"Yes, sir," Schmidt said, nodding in agreement.

"That will be all. Tell my adjutant to call in my staff, will you?" Without waiting for an answer, Hitler turned back to his map and reports. Schmidt saluted, did an about face, and left the room.

_

* * *

_

_Next: Chapter 4: Schmidt meets Hochstetter_

_A/N: Given what's about to happen, the awarding of the Blood Order - a very prestigious decoration of the Nazi party - to Hochstetter will seem appropriate. He might have qualified for it anyway, but it was still too good to pass up. I didn't have the heart to kill off Klink and Schultz (especially Schultz). Generals, on the other hand.._

_All reviews, of course, are appreciated!_


	4. Schmidt Meets Hochstetter

**Prisoners of Honor  
by 80sarcades**

* * *

WARNING *** INCLUDES CHARACTER DEATH*** WARNING

AU. Hogan and his men are captured; the operation is blown. Sorry for the slow update; I've been working some pretty long days:-)

Disclaimer: Hogan's Heroes are not mine. Ah, but if they were…

_From the last chapter:_

"_Your job," the Führer continued, "is to act as my personal representative in this matter. You will ensure that this Colonel Hogan, along with his men, will receive a fair trial. Obviously, the outcome is predetermined - Hogan, of course, will be shot - but the trial will show the world that German fairness - German honor - remains intact, in spite of this war," He paused, then gave the officer a hard look. "You are to use any and all means to show that honor, as well as directing the outcome. Do you have any questions?"_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 4: Schmidt meets Hochstetter_

On the flight to Düsseldorf the next morning, General Schmidt studied the file on Colonel Robert Hogan, USAAF. It didn't take him long to conclude that the Gestapo, Luftwaffe, and Abwehr reports, while detailed, were essentially a large waste of paper.

Still, there were things that could be gleaned from the files. For instance, Hogan was one of the youngest full Colonels in the United States Army Air Forces, let alone the United States Army. While Schmidt doubted that the American Army could be put on a par with the German counterpart - North Africa and Italy notwithstanding - they were gaining experience by the day. Such dedicated men didn't exist on their own; it took a senior officer to recognize their potential. It was the identity of that officer - namely, George Catlett Marshall - that worried Schmidt; if one Hogan could cause havoc for the Third Reich, more clones of him would seal its doom.

The fact that Hogan was trusted by the British, especially in 1941, and had worked with them was stunning in itself; the English were not about to let an American newcomer tell them how to wage war. The files were silent on the reason why this was so, but Schmidt suspected that a member of the Royal Family was involved. He idly wondered how the Colonel had retained his citizenship by working with the Royal Air Force - didn't their Constitution have something about that? - but decided it didn't matter.

In the final analysis, he concluded that while each service - German or otherwise - had officers that were incompetent for their grade of rank, Colonel Hogan was anything but. As his operation proved, he was a dangerous man even as a Prisoner of War.

As the flight continued; Schmidt wished that the prisoners had been moved to Berlin. It would have made for a shorter trip, anyway; he hated flying in airplanes.

As he expected, his aide-de-camp Captain Erich Hoepner was waiting at the airport when he arrived. The car that was with him efficiently whisked them away to the Gestapo headquarters for the Düsseldorf region. An escort took the men via elevator to the fourth floor of the building and into a series of offices where Colonel Hochstetter greeted him with an enthusiastic Party salute. As expected, he and Hoepner returned the gesture of loyalty. The aide then walked to the door and silently stood by it as the men exchanged pleasantries.

"Colonel Hochstetter," Schmidt said by way of greeting. "I must congratulate you on your success, as well as your promotion. Well deserved, indeed."

The Gestapo man beamed with pride. "Thank you, General. Would you care for some victory coffee, perhaps?" he offered.

"If you would. The flight, of course, was too long." With a nod by Hochstetter, the escort disappeared and was soon replaced by an orderly carrying a metal pot and two cups on a small tray. Once the coffee was poured, the General gingerly sipped at the bitter liquid before the orderly departed. Like most senior officers Schmidt detested the Gestapo, codified in one simple thought:

_Dealing with the Gestapo is like dealing with dog shit. You stay as far away as you can from it, and it smells just as bad when you're near it._

"I trust that you have been briefed as to the reason for my visit?" Schmidt asked, getting down to business.

"In broad terms, General," Hochstetter said, a bit nervously. "I understand that Hogan is to be shot, is he not?"

"Not immediately," Schmidt said; he caught the look of irritation on Hochstetter's face. _Ah. You want to pull the trigger on the man yourself_, he thought disgustedly.

Briefly, the General outlined the Führer's plan. Perversely, he also enjoyed the look of pain that passed across the junior officer's features.

"As per the Führer's order, we will give the men a trial; the outcome, of course, is predetermined," Schmidt continued. "As part of that process, I will require that Hogan and his men-" here Schmidt briefly consulted a file he was holding - "Sergeants Carter and Kinchloe, Corporals LeBeau and Newkirk, be transferred to Wehrmacht custody, given that the process of military law…" He broke off and frowned as the Colonel's expression turned pale. "Is there something wrong, Colonel?" he asked.

"Uh, General, we have a slight problem as to Hogan's men. They are, unfortunately, dead," Hochstetter said.

Schmidt looked at the man with a calm expression; inside, the rage was slowly building. "The Führer will find that unfortunate," he said coldly.

Hochstetter paled, his eyes showing signs of fright. "Reichsführer Himmler," he said, stammering the words, "directed me to use any and all means to find out information on the Underground networks in the area. I used them against Colonel Hogan, in order to obtain that information."

General Schmidt's icy green eyes stared at Hochstetter's for a quiet moment before he spoke again. "And how was this carried out, if I might ask?"

"We…used methods, sir," the Colonel admitted nervously. "We interrogated each man in Hogan's presence, to get him to break. Due to the nature of his operation, extreme methods were used."

_My God! _Schmidt thought, keeping his face neutral."Was any information obtained from Hogan, or from his men?" he asked.

Hochstetter was beginning to breathe in spurts; sweat was flowing from his brow as he realized what could happen next. "No, sir," he breathed. "Nothing that we didn't already know, sir."

"Pity," Schmidt said; he let the Gestapo Colonel stew for a moment while he collected his thoughts. _You idiot! _he thought angrily. _We might have been able to use his men against him without killing them; there will certainly be repercussions against our POW's for this! Instead, judging on your history with him, you used this opportunity to exact revenge on this American Colonel. What a waste!_

"I suppose," the General began, "that it is a moot point, now. The propaganda value of this trial to the Third Reich lies with Colonel Hogan's conviction." He saw Hochstetter relax, then decided to twist the knife. "I can only hope, of course, that the Führer will see it that way." The other man paled yet again before Schmidt continued.

"We shall record the men as shot while trying to escape," he announced. "That should settle that matter." _Except for the poor bastards the Allies kill off in revenge,_ he thought. He closed the file, making the Colonel breathe a bit easier. "What is the American's condition?" Schmidt asked.

"As of this morning, good," Hochstetter stated. "We were in the process of using some experimental drugs…"

"No," Schmidt interrupted. "Cease your interrogations. I want you to make arrangements to have the prisoner transferred to Wehrmacht control. Captain Hoepner, my aide, will remain here to oversee the details…"

"Excuse me, General," Hochstetter said, cutting him off, "but it was my understanding that the prisoner would be given a trial. The Reichsführer's understanding is that is would happen in a SS court."

"The Führer," Schmidt said icily, "gave me permission to conduct the trial under Wehrmacht jurisdiction, _Heer_ specifically. This, of course, will satisfy the enemy that a fair trial was given; in effect, the German Army is judging the American one. Wouldn't you agree with this view, Colonel?"

Hochstetter wanted to disagree, but didn't; saying no would guarantee a one-way ticket to the Russian front if not worse. Teeth grinding, he managed to spit out, "Yes, sir."

"Very good." Schmidt stood up. "Captain Hoepner will remain here as my liaison; have the transfer done by the end of the day. Oh, and Colonel…" Hochstetter looked at the General. "Interrupt me again, and I will have you transferred to a combat posting before the day is out. Is that clear?"

Rage coursed through the other man's body, but he kept it under control as he said for the second time "Yes, sir!" He stood up and raised his arm in the prescribed party salute. General Schmidt returned it casually and left the office, his aide right behind him.

Once outside in the corridor, Schmidt pulled the Captain aside.

"Erich, make sure there are no problems with the transfer; if there are any, I want to know about them immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Once the prisoner had been transferred, let me know; I'll be at the hotel. I'm sorry to cut your leave short; I'll try to make it up to you later."

"It was no problem, sir," the Captain replied.

Schmidt reached out to clap him on the arm. "Good man. Oh, another little detail," he continued. "Make sure that the prisoner's cell has adequate bedding. Also see to it that he receives a daily bath - just looking at this place makes me feel dirty - and arrange for his meals from the officers mess."

Captain Hoepner blinked in surprise. Schmidt caught it.

"The Propaganda Ministry is going to want to film the trial," he explained. "Having a well fed and decent looking prisoner will help that image, especially if it helps our Prisoners of War."

Erich nodded, understanding.

* * *

The court-martial, of course, was brief.

As expected, the prosecution presented evidence of the tunnel system, the various sabotage devices, and other items that proved beyond a doubt that Hogan was involved in terrorist activities against the Third Reich.

General Schmidt, who attended the trial, found the whole process - as well as the defendant - interesting. While Hogan was provided with a counsel, the defense was minimal; the Colonel said little during the trial. The dry process was interrupted only once by Hogan when the prosecutor noted that the enlisted men of the operation were all killed while trying to escape Gestapo custody. In a flash, Hogan was on his feet to accuse the Gestapo, and Colonel Hochstetter specifically, of murdering them. Although the trial judge was strongly inclined to have the enemy officer sit down, preferably by force, General Schmidt managed to catch his eye before giving him a quiet nod.

In the end, Hogan was allowed to enter his account of the torture and murder of his men into the trial record. When he was finished, he sat down to self imposed silence for the rest of the trial.

To Schmidt's mind, it made little difference; the whole process was _pro forma_. Instead, he watched calmly as more damning evidence was presented and thought:

_A calm, strong man. He knows the fate that awaits him, yet he stoically shows his resolve against the enemy. I wonder how I would have fared in similar circumstances._

_Still, it is a bit disconcerting to see a man go to his death without saying a word in his defense. According to his guards, he has said little, if anything, while in custody. Yet he has more courage than most men I know. The evidence from the tunnel - God, what an operation he had! - showed that Hogan had made one, possibly more, trips to England while he was still a prisoner!_

_Where was that blasted Kommandant during all of this? Playing cards? Or strutting around the prison camp like some damned dilettante?_

_To reach freedom, and then to come back and willingly become a prisoner again…I thought I had seen courage during the First War, and then in Russia. Nothing like this. No, this was true courage; a devotion to duty at all costs. Even personal ones._

_What was it like, Hogan? To reach England and feel like a man, an officer, once again before returning to the dregs? To breathe free air and know that you were on the side of right once again?_

_Whatever my feelings, you are a man's man, Hogan. Pity, that it should turn out like this…_

The judgment, as expected, was returned by the five member panel of officers: guilty as charged. The penalty for the crime was death by firing squad, sentence to be carried out within two days.

Justice, however, would temporarily be derailed by the arrival of a diplomatic note from the Americans. The missive, delivered by the Swiss Protecting Power, caused the execution to be postponed indefinitely until a higher authority was consulted.

* * *

_Next chapter: The Long Walk. Schmidt goes to consult with the Führer. _

_A/N: Before you reach for the review link, let me explain why Hochstetter did as he did. Although fictional, the operation that Colonel Hogan ran was a major one. It goes to follow that there were other resistance networks out there that Hogan was in contact with._

_Hochstetter, of course, knows this. He also knows that the other networks would lay low for a while because of Hogan's capture; it would be imperative that the Germans find those people and arrest them. While his men could be presumed to know some of the details of those Underground networks, Hogan would (supposedly) be the linchpin that could bring those other operations down. Hogan may not know the names of those members, but he would know details such as descriptions, mannerisms, and other vital information. Those people, in turn, would know other resistance members. It's a bit like toppling a set of dominoes; you never know where you might end up. _

_A seasoned interrogator would have kept the guys alive, but not Hochstetter. In one fell swoop, he's managed to destroy Hogan's operation and capture the Colonel. Despite the accolades, he wants more; those General's badges are within reach if Hogan cracks and tells all. So the men become expendable._

_In all, it becomes a win-win scenario for Hochstetter: if he tortures the enlisted men, and Hogan cracks, he wins. If Hogan says nothing, and his men die, Hochstetter wins. If the men say anything during this time to save themselves, that's also a bonus. As long as Hogan is in pain, Hochstetter wouldn't care; the guy is just pure evil._

_You also have to consider the bigger picture that Colonel Hogan faces: if he talks, how many people - guilty or innocent - will die when the Nazis come after them. 50? 100? More? In this version, Hogan faces a terrible choice: he can talk and (possibly) save his men, but condemn others to death. Or, he can watch his men die and probably go mad. It's a choice that I'm glad I've never had to make._

_In real life, someone would have probably talked to stop the pain. Even the old French resistance guys held out long enough under torture so their information was useless. Some of them (shudder) somehow never broke._

_That's my reasoning. If you still want to flame me, go ahead. Otherwise, sit back; it will soon be Führer time! Time for a glass of dangerously unstable Führer, now available in both German and Austrian versions…_

_All reviews, of course, are appreciated! Not to worry, Linda G; the head nutter will soon show his dark side in the next chapter._


	5. The Long Walk

_**Prisoners of Honor**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

AU. Hogan and his men are captured; the operation is blown. This is the next to last chapter. The last chapter is more of a postscript to what happens here. There is a character death towards the end; I've tried to make it as noble as I could (not that the word _noble_ exists anymore, mind you...)

Disclaimer: Me? Own Hogan's Heroes? Are you kidding?

Two minor corrections; credit to **St PA **for spotting them.

_From the last chapter:_

_The judgment, as expected, was returned by the five member panel of officers: guilty as charged. The penalty for the crime was death by firing squad, sentence to be carried out within two days._

_Justice, however, would temporarily be derailed by the arrival of a diplomatic note from the Americans. The missive, delivered by the Swiss Protecting Power, caused the execution to be postponed indefinitely until a higher authority was consulted. _

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 5: The Long Walk_

The message, delivered by a representative of the Foreign Ministry, annoyed Schmidt to no end.

_You would think that the Foreign Minister could deliver his own damn diplomatic message_, he thought._ Instead, he passes it off to me. Which means that I have to make another long airplane trip to see the Führer again. I detest airplanes. On a train, you can jump off and take cover if the train stops. Airplanes, on the other hand, have nowhere to go but down if shot up._

_Damned paper pushers! Always covering their backsides! _

The flight on the converted JU 52 was pleasant enough. A steward brought him a drink every so often and generally ensured that his charge was comfortable for the entire trip. It really didn't help Schmidt's mood, however, that they had to land twice; first at Berlin, then at the Führer's headquarters in Eastern Prussia.

A military aide met him at the airfield and showed him to a waiting car. As they approached _Wolfsschanze_, they passed through a number of military checkpoints. As before, the troops standing duty there took their jobs seriously; Schmidt's soldbuch, as well as the papers of the driver, were carefully checked at each point.

Once at the inner ring - Security Zone One - the men walked into the Führer Bunker and then to a small waiting area just outside the main conference room. The aide, after checking with one of Hitler's secretaries, informed Schmidt that the Führer was in a conference and would see him afterward.

As the other man departed, General Schmidt sighed heavily with tiredness before sinking into one of the nearby chairs. The leather briefcase he carried sat on the floor beside him as he waited alone with his thoughts:

_How the hell did I get into this?_

_It is one thing to meet a soldier on the field of battle. I would much rather be commanding my troops and doing what I do best. Instead, I get to play executioner._

_I have to watch a man die. _

_For an SS bastard, it would be easy. Those swine actually enjoy watching people die. Not for me. Not for my conscience._

_Yet, I have my duty. The Führer's orders. Doesn't mean I have to like it…_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a strident yelling coming from the conference room. The words were muted through the thick concrete wall, but the voice echoed of power, of authority…

_My God! That's the Führer's voice. I have heard tales of his rage, but thought they were exaggerated!_

_And I'm walking in right after that? The Russians were bad enough! I wonder who is in trouble?_

Just then, the voice stopped. A minute later, the thick wooden door opened and a line of Generals, along with their aides, trooped out. Schmidt recognized half of them; one of the senior officers was Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel, head of OKW. All of them looked pale; most had looks of relief on their faces.

Another military aide - this one Army - came out of the room soon after that and marched up to the General. He clicked his heels and saluted. The General returned the gesture with a casual wave.

"The Führer will see you now, _Herr_ General," he announced. Schmidt rose, collected his briefcase, and followed the aide into the conference room.

_And now I march into the lion's den,_ Schmidt thought. _Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…_

Surprising Schmidt, the leader of the Third Reich smiled warmly at him as the General saluted. The Führer motioned for the officer to stand at ease before he spoke.

"Schmidt," he began; his tone was friendly. "What progress do you have to report?"

"The trial is concluded, my Führer," the General announced. "Colonel Hogan, along with his men, have been found guilty of their crimes." Schmidt had decided earlier not to mention that the enlisted men had been found guilty in the most horrible way; that was over and done with. Only the results would matter.

His guess was proven correct as Hitler nodded, obviously pleased. "Good," he said. "The Propaganda Ministry will record the execution, of course. It only goes to show that criminals like these will never escape justice. Goebbels will make sure of that. Any other news?"

Schmidt nodded, then swallowed. "Yes, sir," he said hesitantly. "The Foreign Ministry has received a communication from the Americans proposing an exchange of officers." He undid the clasp on the briefcase and withdrew a brown folder; Hitler waved it off.

"Read it to me," he ordered.

The General opened the file to the first page. "The Americans have offered to exchange two _Heer_ Generals - namely, Generalleutnant Paul von Hase and Generalmajor Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel - for Robert Hogan. To that end they have promoted Hogan to the rank of Brigadier General, an equivalent rank to Generalmajor. A separate offer for his men is also included," Schmidt finished.

Hitler was quiet for a long moment. "An opinion, Schmidt," he finally said. "How would you handle this situation?"

The senior officer thought for a moment before he looked at his leader. "The question has two parts, my Führer: the political, and the military," he explained. "As to the political, I am unqualified to offer an opinion…"

Schmidt could have sworn that he saw one of the corners of the Führer's mouth twitch at that, then decided it was his imagination.

"…while the simple soldier in me would review it for possible consideration," he went on. "First, we would receive two senior officers in exchange for one. If the Americans are desperate enough, we may be able to negotiate for three, perhaps four, generals now held by the Allies. Secondly, their combat and professional experience makes those officers valuable to the Third Reich. As you know, my Führer, combat experience cannot be _trained,_ it can only be _gained_. The net benefit to Germany would outweigh any gain the Allies might receive," Schmidt finished.

"Sound opinions, Schmidt," Hitler said. "Of course, the political part is one that I must - have to - consider," he said in a calm tone. "Have you seen this Hogan's operation?"

"Yes, my Führer," said the General. "I visited it before the trial."

"And what did you think of it?" Hitler asked.

"Impressive, at the least," Schmidt admitted. "It reminded me of some of the First War dugouts…"

"Outrageous is the word I would use!" Hitler interrupted angrily. "Prisoners killing loyal soldiers of the Reich! Sabotaging the trains for our forces at the front," he yelled. "And the damned Luftwaffe sound asleep to it all!"

His voice had risen to a scream by the time he was finished. Then, like a switch, Hitler's personality changed back to normal; the abruptness of it all scared the General to his very core.

"As I was saying," the Führer continued calmly as if nothing had happened, "you would agree, after viewing his operation, that Hogan is a dangerous man?"

Schmidt knew better than to disagree with anything Hitler said; his answer was truthful. "Yes, my Führer," he said.

"Even as a prisoner, Hogan accomplished much for the Allies. Lax oversight by the Luftwaffe may have contributed to that," Hitler went on. "However, only a man of courage, of iron will, could have accomplished the rest. If this officer was exchanged, his influence on the war would be profound. His value, of course, would be much more than a general or two. By himself, he would be worth several divisions. Perhaps even a corps."

Schmidt nodded, understanding.

"Therefore, Colonel Robert Hogan constitutes a danger to the security of the Third Reich," Hitler finished his explanation. "Do you have the execution order?"

In response, the General nodded before he withdrew another file folder from the briefcase. This one was white; its contents consisted of eight typewritten sheets of paper. Seven of the pages listed the various charges and verdicts against Hogan. The final one, the top sheet, detailed the sentencing information in formalized language. Schmidt had, only with the greatest reluctance, affixed his name to the signature block at the bottom of the paper that morning. Although he was signing as the Führer's personal representative, part of him also recognized the personal responsibility it entailed. It also was, to his mind, a disgrace; soldiers were supposed to face each other on the field of honor instead of shooting down helpless prisoners.

Adolf Hitler took the papers and studied them for a moment before he walked to the door. "Traudl," he called.

A young blonde woman quickly stepped into view. For a moment, Schmidt reflected, she looked very much like his late daughter. That realization caused him to push the image to the back of his mind before it hurt too much.

"Yes, my Führer?" she asked politely.

"May I borrow one of your pens, please?" Hitler asked.

"Of course." She handed him a gold colored pen; the head of the Third Reich took it and the document over to the conference table where he signed it in a scrawl. As he did so, Schmidt silently noted that the Führer's left hand shook slightly as it held the paper in place. Hitler then handed the pen back to his secretary before he passed the papers over to his General. The white paper, Hogan's death warrant, now had the signature of the highest authority in Germany.

"Give a copy of this to the Allies as our response," Hitler ordered. "Criminals like him, much like the commandos, deserve to pay the ultimate penalty when they are caught." His blue eyes fixed General Schmidt with a cold stare even as his next words were set in granite:

"Hogan dies."

* * *

_I'm going to die._

The thought was ever present in his head, yet bothered him not at all. In a way, he was already dead. The wrong choice had been made; his men had paid the price for it.

And so would he.

_I'm going to die._

Strangely, it was also a relief. It would be his penance for the hurt he had caused. Of watching the men die…

The muted nighttime sounds of Brückenkopf Wehrmacht Prison (Torgau) drifted through the bars of the cell door. Pale illumination from the lights on the main block filtered into his cell, giving him just enough light to see by. It also allowed the guards to check on their prisoners during their hourly rounds.

Robert Hogan, late of Stalag 13, barely noticed.

Blank eyes bored into the ceiling as his mind retreated into itself. Snippets of his life flashed before his eyes. Old regrets. Challenges. Triumphs. Tragedies.

…_graduating from West Point, his cap flying high into the air…_

…_the hurt of Stephanie's rejection when he asked for her hand in marriage…_

…_his first solo as a pilot, and the thrill of being a god…_

He broke away from his thoughts as the lights in the small cell snapped on. Shouts in German echoed through the cellblock as the hard footfalls of booted men approached his cell door. By that point, Hogan had reflexively rolled off of the bunk before standing at attention in front of it. He had already been painfully reminded of what happened if you were not standing in the proper place at the proper time and had no desire to go through that experience again.

Two men entered the cell. One of them carried a chair which he put in the middle of the floor before stepping out of the way. The other took out a straight razor and motioned Hogan towards the chair. Obviously, they were here to shave him. He sat down in the chair and stared dully at the wall as the guard efficiently performed his job. As he finished, an orderly carried a tray into the cell and left it on the mattress before all of the visitors left with their equipment. Darkness returned as he shuffled to the bunk to eat his breakfast. Before he did so, Hogan raised a hand to his now smooth skin and shook his head.

_What's the point? Not like I'm going anywhere. _

Ten minutes later, the lights came on again. This time, it was a German Army Captain that entered the cell. To Hogan's great surprise, his set of Class A's - his Army uniform - was suspended neatly from a hanger that the man carried. An enlisted man right behind him carried a box that contained his cover and a pair of shoes; he set the box on the bunk before leaving the cell. Judging by the uniform's appearance - he had last seen it at Stalag 13 - someone had taken the time and trouble to press and clean it. All of the ribbons and devices, he noted, were in the right spots.

Including the General's stars.

Achieving General Officer rank was a dream for many commissioned Army officers. Most fell by the wayside; only a few, comparatively speaking, made that lofty goal. Hogan had dedicated a large chunk of his life to that end. Even that victory was hollow: a German General by the name of Schmidt had informed him of the news before handing him a copy of the promotion orders.

The irony of that moment still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"General Schmidt's compliments, sir," the Captain said, then smiled. "He wanted to make sure you had this to wear. Can I get anything else for you?"

"Wouldn't happen to have a mirror, would you?" Hogan dryly asked.

"No, sir," the Captain replied in a serious tone. "However, I will have one of the guards bring one. They will have to hold it for you, of course" the man explained apologetically. "Regulations."

Hogan nodded. "Thanks," he said. "That's all I can think of." _Makes sense_, he thought._ They wouldn't want me cutting my throat before the execution, would they?_

The Captain nodded, clicked his heels, and withdrew. For a long moment, the American officer stared at the uniform.

_I remember when they fitted me for my first uniform. Dad was so proud of me when I earned my commission; I think it was the first time I ever saw him cry. That didn't stop him from taking a dollar from me when he gave me my first salute. He still had it framed on his wall when I left for overseas._

With care, Hogan began to put on the uniform.

Strangely, he had never asked Burkhalter where he had obtained the set of pinks and greens, much less the decorations. Truthfully, he had been surprised to see it that first time at Stalag 13; it was a painful reminder of a world that almost didn't exist. By eye and by hand, he checked the details to make sure everything was in their correct spots. A few minutes later, a guard showed up with a small mirror and held it up outside the bars. Looking in the reflection, Hogan was pleased to see that only a few things needed to be changed. All in all, he looked like a model officer.

That thought almost made Hogan want to laugh. Here he was, dressed to the nines, while standing in a prison cell in the middle of Germany. _It would have made for a good picture, anyway. _

Now all he had to do was wait. Eventually, in their own time, the guards came for him.

Four guards - two in front of him, the others in back - escorted him on the long walk to the courtyard. General Hogan marched between them as if he were on a parade ground instead of a prison. Despite the handcuffs that encircled his wrists, his shoulders were squared off; stoic pride marked his every step.

Brückenkopf Wehrmacht Prison housed the toughest of the dregs of military life. The prisoners incarcerated there were too dangerous to have anywhere else. In their own way, the guards were just as rough as their charges. Yet, there was something in the way Hogan walked that made those hardened men fall silent as the American passed by. All of them knew about the Allied officer that was to be executed; only a few had actually seen him. Some of the prisoners crossed themselves for the first time in many years while others saluted.

Even if he was the enemy, they noted, he wasn't afraid to die. Or at least he hid it well.

They passed through a series of steel doors before entering another long corridor. At the end, another door was open; light from outside echoed down the concrete and steel walkway. Hogan's body was on automatic as they traveled to the end while his mind was elsewhere with his thoughts.

_I'm sorry, Dad. You told me once that a soldier has a duty to perform well, and you were right. I only hope that Mom will understand. I love you both._

_Right or wrong, I tried to do my duty as I saw it._

_Carter. LeBeau. Kinch. Newkirk. I can only hope that you guys can forgive me, wherever you are._

_I can only hope that I'm worthy to be forgiven. I loved you guys._

_I still do._

Just then, the detail entered the courtyard. General Hogan blinked slightly in the early morning sunlight as he was led over to a wooden post at the far end of the yard. The handcuffs were removed before he was positioned in front of the pillar. Another guard, using hand gestures, directed Hogan to remove his cover and jacket. Once that was done, the guard took the items of clothing and, along with the rest of the detail, did an about face before they marched down the length of the courtyard. Hogan absently rubbed his wrists even as he studied the area.

Several cameras had been positioned to record the event, presumably for propaganda purposes. Although he was tempted to wave at the cameras, Hogan ultimately ignored them. Instead, he turned his eyes upward and saw the blue sky overhead. Once upon a time, he had soared into the heavens with just a propeller and a parachute to keep him company. Today it meant something else: freedom. Just not the one he envisioned when he was originally captured so long ago.

As he returned to reality, Hogan watched casually as six armed men in SS uniforms entered the courtyard before taking up a line of position a short distance away. This was presumably the firing squad. Other witnesses, both military and civilian, stood in a group behind them. Another collection of soldiers, these ones in Army gray, stood along the far wall; the General supposed that they were the burial detail. That thought reinforced another one.

_I'm going to die._

Instead of worry, a calm sense of peace descended onto his soul. Despite being surrounded by the enemy, he knew that he wasn't standing alone. At that moment, Hogan knew his job on Earth was done; there awaited only the final moment. Just then, Hochstetter entered the courtyard. He almost swaggered as he came over to gloat in his moment of triumph.

Instead of hatred, the General only felt pity for the Gestapo officer. The darkness that filled him was beyond redemption. Eventually, Hochstetter would be called to account for his actions by a higher power.

_While I will be going on to a better place with my friends. I know that now._

"A fitting end, Hogan," the German crowed. "You have no idea how many times I have dreamed about this. And now, that day has arrived." Though the man smiled, evil tinged its edges.

Instead of showing the expected fear, Hogan raised an eyebrow in amusement before giving the man a warm smile. "You really should add the word 'sir' to that, _Colonel,_"Hogan corrected him. "I still outrank you."

Anger flushed the German's face; for a moment, it looked as if he wanted to strangle his nemesis with his bare hands. "You'll soon be dead, like your _friends_," he hissed in a low tone. "Soon, the most dangerous man in Germany will be no more."

"Oh, you never know who's dangerous, Hochstetter," Hogan quipped, unafraid of the man before him. "I'm sure you'll be seeing more dangerous Americans soon. Or will it be the Russians first?" He shrugged. "Then again, who cares?" Hogan went on. "I'm sure someone will get here, and soon." For a man about to die, the grin he shot the Gestapo Colonel was infectious.

"BAH!" Hochstetter roared in disgust; he turned towards the firing line. "Ready your weapons," he yelled as he walked back down the yard. The SS men raised their Mauser rifles upward, working each action to chamber a round before another shout rang out.

"Halt!"

Hochstetter turned to see General Schmidt walking towards him from the rear of the courtyard. With a quick motion of his hand, he signaled the squad to attention; several practiced motions later, the rifles - with the safeties on - stood stiffly beside their owners.

"I wish to speak with this prisoner," the General said flatly.

Annoyance showed on Hochstetter's face as he saluted the senior officer. "Yes, sir," he reluctantly said in a calm voice. "May I have a guard escort the General?"

Schmidt snorted. "What harm could he do in here? No, I will face him alone."

Without waiting for an answer, he strode off towards General Hogan; a minute later, he was face to face with the American officer. Both men quickly reached the same conclusion about the other: _This man is dangerous._

The German General took a silver cigarette case out of his coat pocket. Opening it, he took one and put it between his lips before offering a cigarette to the American General. The condemned man took one of the thin tubes from the box and lit it with a lighter that the German offered him.

"Thanks," Hogan said, savoring the rough smoke as it filtered its way into his lungs. He handed the lighter back to the other man, who pocketed it. "General Schmidt," he said; his tone was both formal and flippant. "Nice to see you again."

The German nodded gravely. "As you already know, I have been overseeing your case," Schmidt explained, his lips twitched slightly. "You should know, of course, that this was preordained; the Führer ordered your death."

"I'm sure it gives you great pleasure, carrying out that order," Hogan countered sarcastically. "Isn't that part of being a loyal officer?"

Schmidt didn't react. After a moment, he softly said "There are many good Germans out there, General, who wish to do a noble thing. The right thing, as it were." He paused, then looked General Hogan in the eye. "_The woods are lovely, dark and deep_," he said, in a low monotone.

Hogan just stared for a moment before his brain remembered the code phrase from a world ago. _"Miles to go, before I sleep,"_ he responded in a whisper, disbelieving.

"_Nowhere to rest my weary feet_," Schmidt finished.

It took a moment before the American officer found his voice again. "You? You were the contact?" Hogan asked, stunned.

The General nodded slightly, sadness in his eyes. "As one officer to another, I must apologize for not being able to stop this, General Hogan. It seems that fate will catch all of us, in the end." He paused for a moment before continuing. "You should know that we will take care of the problem that presents itself. We have no other option if we are to end this cursed war." Both men knew that he was talking about the forcible removal of Hitler from power.

"Seems that fate has caught me a bit late for that," Hogan joked, trying to smile. "But…thank you," he said; this time there was no malice in his words.

Schmidt nodded. "I will personally see that your effects are delivered to the Red Cross for delivery to your family. Is there anything else I can do for you? A letter to write, perhaps?"

Hogan shook his head, then looked at General Schmidt again. "Just make sure you do it right this time," he said simply.

The German officer nodded again; he then did an about face and marched back to the firing line, leaving the American alone.

Hochstetter, of course, was waiting impatiently for his moment. As the cameras rolled, he called for the squad to ready their weapons. The rifles were raised and pointed at the American General. Hogan could almost feel invisible hands grasp his shoulders, helping to keep him steady for the impact…

"General Hogan!" Schmidt called.

The executioner and the condemned both looked at the General. Schmidt's right arm was raised in salute; not the Party salute, but the traditional military one.

Hogan met the General's eyes; a moment later the American's own hand returned the salute, his face a mask of emotion. The Gestapo Colonel, by that time, had had enough.

"FIRE!" he screamed.

The _crack _from the rifle muzzles echoed around the courtyard as Hogan slumped to the ground, dead. The Colonel signaled for the squad to safe their weapons before he walked down to Hogan's body. His smile betrayed his glee as he discovered that his enemy was truly dead. Satisfied, he walked back, his step jubilant.

The SS Lieutenant leading the detail raised his voice and addressed the Gestapo Colonel. "Sir, what do you want us to do with the body?" he asked.

Before Hochstetter could reply, General Schmidt interrupted. "I will deal with the arrangements, Lieutenant," he announced. With a wave of his gloved hand, he signaled for the Army detail to come forward. Meanwhile, the Colonel stared at the General with incredulous and angry eyes.

"This man was a terror flyer, a _criminal,_" he spat. "He should be thrown to the pigs; he's more useful there as feed!" Schmidt raised his hand, stopping the detail; he locked eyes with the troublesome Gestapo man.

"His crimes against Germany have been paid for with his life," the General said calmly, though the tension radiated through the cool air. "He may have fought for his country against Germany, but he is entitled to respect in death. The _Heer_, of course, will bury him with honors; I understand that the Americans and English show the same sort of respect to our own men."

"Honor!" exclaimed Hochstetter, almost spitting the word out. "Where was his honor when he was blowing up German trains? When he was taking German lives? If it was up to me, I would bury him in the woods and be done with it!"

"I really don't care what you want, you Gestapo _shit,_" General Schmidt said, cold anger flowing through his veins as he fixed the Colonel with a glare. "What _I _want is for you to take your men and get out. The professionals will take it from here," he snidely remarked to the fuming Gestapo officer.

He signaled again. Even as the men moved forward, Schmidt and Hochstetter warred with their eyes before the junior officer was forced to break away. His gaze told the senior officer that the conversation was far from over. Hochstetter's right hand shot up in the required Party salute.

"Heil Hitler!" he barked. Within seconds, he and his squad departed through the courtyard door. General Schmidt let out a long breath and watched silently as the detail completed their business.

* * *

Two days later, General Hogan was buried with full military honors at a small cemetery just outside of Düsseldorf. General Schmidt attended the short service and watched impassively as the fallen American officer was laid to rest. Afterwards, he then privately arranged for a large granite marker etched with Hogan's name, rank, and the essential dates to be placed at the gravesite.

Photographs of the service were taken and documented before being placed in a case file. The file - containing copies of the court transcripts, execution order, and other assorted documents - was then sealed and then transported by officer courier to the Foreign Ministry. Eventually, via the Protecting Power, the file would reach the United States by way of the Swiss Embassy. The Secretary of State, in turn, would notify the Secretary of War. And so on.

Life, and the war, continued. However, the story was far from over.

* * *

_A/N: One chapter left. If anyone noticed, I did a bit of foreshadowing for Schmidt's real role; both of the Generals he named earlier - as well as his aide - were actually real persons, though the ranks were different. All of them were executed for their roles in the July 20, 1944 plot against Hitler._

_I would imagine the the first meeting between Hogan and Schmidt at the prison was somewhat formal (with witnesses). Schmidt would have probably gone there to check on things before the big event; in any case, Hogan was probably too depressed to care much about anything._

_Torgau, incidentally, was where American and Russian forces met in April 1945. _

_The code phrase is adapted and slightly modified from the Robert Frost poem, __Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening._


	6. Release

**Prisoners of Honor**  
**by 80sarcades**

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The last chapter. Thank you for reading this story; I would like to also send a big thank you to all those leaving reviews. Does make my heart feel good:-)

Since Hochstetter was the hero in this story, I'm thinking about doing a small sequel to take care of him. I wouldn't kill him off in this one; that would just be too good for our lovable Major. Anyone interested?

Disclaimer: I own a house, a car, and a cat. My wife owns me. I, in turn, don't own Hogan's Heroes.

_From the last chapter:_

_Two days later, General Hogan was buried with full military honors at a small cemetery just outside of Düsseldorf. General Schmidt attended the short service and watched impassively as the fallen American officer was laid to rest. _

_Life, and the war, went on. However, the story was far from over._

_

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_

_Chapter 6: Release_

_Rastenburg, East Prussia  
__July 20__th__, 1944_

Being promoted, Schmidt decided, was a mixed blessing.

As a Generalleutant, he naturally commanded attention; when the phrase 'on the Führer's staff' was added, people looked at him with a sort of awe. The allure of power tempted his resolve as he moved through the highest circles of the Third Reich. Even on a personal level, the offers were sinfully enticing. Women, he found, were attracted to such strength; men of all types rushed to obey his orders. In some ways, acting with the authority of the Führer made him almost as powerful as the man himself.

Underneath it all, however, he detested the role he was forced to play.

For nearly a year he had been a silent witness to the use of that power by the other senior members of the Third Reich. It was a society where honor was as corrupted and dark as the souls that abused their authority; where lives, both military and civilian, were thrown away for the greater good. Ironically, it was all done in the name of the German people. With any luck, today would reverse that tide.

As he walked through the stifling midsummer air of the complex, Schmidt made eye contact with General Erich Fellgiebel, head of the Signals detachment at _Wolfsschanze,_ and nodded once before proceeding to the conference. After several delays, the main strategy meeting was finally scheduled to start in the Lager barracks at 1230. Normally the conferences were held at the Führer Bunker; interior construction there had forced the sessions to be moved elsewhere.

To Schmidt, it made little difference. The bombs he carried in his ever-present leather briefcase were an odd mix of German plastic explosives and British primers. Theoretically he had ten to fifteen minutes, probably less, once the bombs were armed before the acid triggers set off the explosives. Despite the anticipation, Schmidt and his aide-de-camp walked slowly towards the meeting point. For the General, it would be the last long walk of his life.

Along the way, another military aide met the General; the Führer wished to see him at the barracks before the session started. As soon as that mini-meeting was over, the two _Heer _officers ducked into a nearby washroom. With Captain Hoepner's help, Schmidt armed both devices by using a pair of small pliers to crush the ends of both detonators. The acid, now released, started the countdown; there was no turning back. The bombs were then placed carefully back into the briefcase before the two men proceeded on to the meeting.

While his aide stood with his peers alongside the inner wall of the room, Schmidt walked to his usual place at the conference table before setting the briefcase down on the floor next to him. The Führer entered the room one minute later and received his customary salutes before proceeding to his appointed spot at the middle of the table. With a gesture of his hand, the meeting started. The briefing officer would update the members on the current status of the Eastern and Western fronts; the Führer would interject his own comments at various points before the other service officers delivered their own briefings. Eventually, Hitler's temper would show itself. It was a familiar pattern that seemed to drag interminably on with no end in sight.

He glanced at the wall and nodded at Erich. The younger man gave him a wistful look for a moment before he walked through the nearby doorway and disappeared from view. Hopefully, his aide would have enough time to get though the outer checkpoints before _it _happened. Interestingly, General Schmidt appreciated the irony he now faced: after years spent avoiding explosive devices, he was now standing next to one. As he stood next to the Führer, Schmidt noted how haggard his leader looked. It seemed appropriate; as Germany suffered, so did the man.

The seconds turned by slowly as the meeting went on. Troop movements and deployments were discussed, planned out, and then ordered. As Hitler ranted and raged over some trivial detail, Schmidt looked down at the map of Western Europe again and thought:

_I wonder how many people out there are dying right now?_

_Regardless of the outcome, Germany will have blood on her hands for generations to come. My generation - as well as my father's - has led our country to ruin. This time, however, the victorious - and vengeful - Allies will occupy the Fatherland for God only knows how long._

_The war is lost. We all know it; moving Army Groups and their elements here and there will do little to stave off the inevitable. I seem to remember that the Führer saying that he would change Germany in twelve years. How right he was! If he is allowed to continue, little more than rubble will remain._

_Our only chance of survival as a nation is through our young people. Von Stauffenberg, should we succeed here, can be a part of that change. Erich, with luck, will survive this mess and return to his wife and daughter. I can only hope that a future Germany will be a country to be proud of._

_For them, and for the future, we have to succeed. We must succeed. Otherwise, madness and hell will be our damnation._

He glanced at his watch. Two minutes remained before the bombs did their work.

_Is this purgatory?_

_To relive the same moment, over and over? God, I hope not._

_At least I'm not Fellgiebel. He'll have to destroy all of the communications banks - there are five of them - after he contacts von Stauffenberg in Berlin. If he's lucky, he might be able to destroy them all before the SS can get to him._

_By then, I'll be dead. I wonder: will it hurt? I want to run from my fate, but I know I'm doing the right thing. God help me, though I don't deserve it._

From memory, he recalled another man who was about to die.

_You fought for your convictions, General Hogan, when you could have easily escaped or given up the fight. You died for freedom, for my country as well as your own; I can do no less. As you did your duty, so shall I._

The thought, strangely enough, reassured him. He risked another glance at his timepiece. If it were to be believed, more than six minutes had gone by from when he had last checked it. The bombs should have gone off by now. Despite the tension, Schmidt was careful not to let his face show anything.

_What went wrong? The detonators? The explosive? Or the Führer's damned luck? We shall…_

He broke off the thought as something across the room caught his eye. On the other side of the table, directly behind Generaloberst Heller, stood the figure of one General Robert Hogan. The uniform he wore was impeccable, if not impressive; his face was expressionless. Despite the enemy officer's presence, no one in the room - not even the aides lining the wall - noticed the American standing in their midst.

Schmidt closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. The phantom was still there in the same spot, his expression still impassive.

The other voices at the conference faded away into nothingness as the eyes of the two officers met. For a long moment, Schmidt feared that he was falling into madness as he looked into those cold brown eyes. Eventually, his mind said what his mouth could not:

_You're dead! God help me, but I saw you die!_

The other man nodded once, almost as if he had heard the thought. Then, ever so slowly, the figure raised its right arm before it solemnly saluted Schmidt.

Without really thinking about it, Schmidt clicked his heels reflexively before he mirrored Hogan's action. Even as silence fell upon the room, the General was overcome by emotion; a single tear fell down his right cheek. His final words, almost in a whisper, carried loud and clear in the warm air.

"Long live Germany," he murmured emotionally. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angry sparks form in the Führer's eyes even before the man began to speak.

As Hitler opened his mouth, the first bomb exploded; a half-second later, the second device joined it. The twin blasts killed Hitler, Schmidt, and six other men in the room.

[fin/ende]

_A/N: So ends Prisoners of Honor. Originally, I was going to have Schmidt tell Hitler off just before the bombs exploded. As fun as that might have been, this version is more appropriate._

_Any and all reviews are appreciated! _


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